I'll Always Choose Magic
by smkb1990
Summary: "…magic. I'll always choose magic." Starting at the end of fourth year Hermione realizes she has a choice to make. She can't be a part of two worlds. The war is looming near but so is a new love. F/Hr


**AN: New story because I need more Fred/Hermione in my life! Will closely follow the books. I wanted to take a look at Hermione's side of the struggle and story, so while the main plot will still focus on Harry I'll write from Hermione's perspective. She is one of the main characters and her back story as well as her home life are both kept in the dark. I want this to be realistic and in character, so it'll be slow and long. I can't promise frequent updates, but at least one a week (as much as possible). Since I'm still in the process of writing this fic I'm open to ideas for future scenes and pairings. Please review and give me your thoughts!**

 **Choices**

 **Chapter 1**

It was unnerving to be back home. Her room looked just as it had a year ago. The same powder blue walls, the same billowy white curtains, the same bookshelves stuffed to the brim. But the girl that left it was not the same one that came back.

It'd only been two days since she left Hogwarts, two days since the school mourned Cedric's death. She spent her short time away from the castle wishing she could be back in the wizarding world. It'd been wonderful to see her parents again. Wonderful and slightly uncomfortable. Their biggest worries involved the weather and their morning tea, while she had the shadow of a Dark Lord in her future.

She simply couldn't relate to the people than had brought her into this world. A year ago she'd left home with a wide smile excited to watch the Quidditch World Cup. She was naïve, young, and innocent. Back then she still believed that she could belong to two worlds.

But the changes started that very summer, and only grew more noticeable throughout the year. Most of her fourth year consisted of learning as much as possible to keep Harry alive. It marked a turning point in their lives. This year they'd been force to grow up, becoming adults before their time. It was during this year that she came to terms with being a witch. Being a witch with all that it entails.

She couldn't be a part of two worlds; she couldn't include her loving parents into the wizarding world. No matter how hard she tried to explain the feeling of casting a spell, her words didn't do it justice. They would never understand, because the only thing running through their veins was blood. She had magic. In their muggleness, both Grangers were still of the idea that magic was about floating tea saucers and the post owls. When in reality magic was an essence that permeated her world. There was good, wonderful magic, just like there was rotten, dark magic, and all the grayness in between.

They would never get to watch their daughter yield this power, they would never see the warrior she'd become, they would never see her become the brightest witch of her age. And no matter how much she wished it, they could never be a true part of her life.

So here she was, staring silently at her childhood room. Trying to come to grasps with the inevitability of a war in her future, a war she was certain to be in the center of. She wasn't a fool; she knew there was danger looming in the horizon. Things were going to change. Her muggleborn status along with her close friendship with Harry Potter put her in the middle of it.

Her highly logical brain wanted to know exactly what that danger meant, and how her parents would be affected. Were they in as much danger as her?

An insistent tapping pulled her out of her thoughts, "Errol?" she whispered, spotting the old Weasley owl. He looked exhausted, a thin piece of parchment fastened to his leg. She quickly pulled the window open, snatching the letter.

 _Hermione,_

 _The wards at the Burrow have been breached. You are no longer safe. Someone will be by to fetch you this evening at 11pm. Do not reply._

 _Stay inside,_

 _Arthur Weasley_

By the time she made sense of the words, the letter had been read ten more times, and laid crumpled on her bed. Her watch confirmed that she had roughly 5 hours to break the news to her parents.

Errol watched as the dazed witch packed her trunk, taking more than what she usually would. If this was the beginning of war she had to be prepared. That meant pulling the small shoebox hidden in the back of her wardrobe. The little box contained a third of the inheritance her grandmother had left her, along with a bankcard for the other two thirds.

"They'll never understand," she whispered while folding a pile of jumpers. Her thoughts straying from Voldemort to her parents. She had kept them in the dark about her more dangerous adventures. She never mentioned the troll, or the basilisk, or Sirius Black, and she had most certainly kept quiet about the tournament, Cedric, and Voldemort. If they ever found out, they'd snatch her away.

When she received her letter on her eleventh birthday, her parents saw magic as a quirk. She couldn't have ever imagined how deeply magic would affect her and change her. The wizarding world was her world and the muggle world was her parents.

It was never the matter that she didn't love them, because she loved the fiercely. But the deeper she embedded herself in magic, the more estranged she became. Sometime in the last four years she'd began to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley filling the parental roles in her life.

She'd started to dread coming home for the holidays, the summer long separation from magic made her uncomfortable. But until now she hadn't know that a decision needed making. She _was_ a witch and no matter how much muggle blood she had coursing through her veins, the magic was stronger.

She was a witch and the wizarding world needed her.

Arming herself with that last thought, she made her way to the kitchen. She had to inform her parents that they'd have to go to France without her.

Many hours later Lupin along with pink haired witch flooed into her living room, and unfortunately into the middle of a heated argument between Hermione and her mum.

"You are not going back to that school, that is final," said Hermione's mum. Remus' eyes widened.

"Mum, I'll be seventeen in a year, I'll be of age in my world and I'd go back anyway."

"You don't belong with that lot, it's too dangerous. I can have you enrolled in the best _normal_ schools; you can go to any university you wish. It'd be like I always dreamed, be reasonable."

The fire in Hermione's eyes seemed to die; she leveled herself before her mother. Looking at the woman that had given her life like she had never seen her before. "That is my world now, we are standing at the brink of a war and my best friend is intimately involved. I am brilliant, the brightest with of my age they call me, Harry needs me, my world's needs me."

"What about us, don't we need you?" her mother replied.

"They need me more."

"Then the choice is quiet simple; magic or us."

Hermione stared into a carbon copy of her own eyes on her mother's face. Her mind couldn't comprehend what she was being asked, but the undeniable answer slipped to the tip of her tongue, "…magic. I'll always choose magic."

Mrs. Granger turned to acknowledge Remus and his companion for the first time. "You are here to collect her?" Remus quietly confirmed this. "Then get on with it, I can't bear to look at her anymore."

"Mrs. Granger, Hermione is right, we are at the brink of a war. During these times all one has is family and…" tried Remus.

"Make no mistake, she made her choice. Hermione is no child of mine."

The silence that followed her words was deafening. Hermione's flushed cheeks lost their color immediately. Her now ghostly complexion and the light swaying forced Remus to pull her close to him. "It'll be alright," he whispered in her ear.

"I believe it's best if you go now," said the otherwise silent Mr. Granger. "Give your mum sometime to come to terms with this."

The werewolf's expression hardened and he hugged the girl closer. He sent the other witch to fetch Hermione's things, and didn't pause to look back as they headed through the front door. The trio walked for a couple blocks before slipping into a secluded back street.

"Hermione," said Remus forcing her tear stained face to him. "What's happened?"

She took a few steps closer; her watery brown eyes connecting with his own tired ones. For her, the man standing in front of her was a tangible connection to the wizarding world. Not caring about anything else, she buried herself in his open arms, taking whatever comfort he was willing to provide. This time her tears weren't just angry and sad, no, this time she cried in relief as well.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, holding her head to his chest. "Are you hurt? Did something else happen?"

Hermione shook her head, "no, let's just go," she whispered.

"What about your parents?" asked the other witch.

"She found Mr. Weasley's letter, and asked me about my safety. I had to tell her everything."

"I'm sure if we talked to her, she'd understand," said Lupin, his eyes hard. "If they understand that this is for your safety."

"No, dad said he'd write to me soon. Can we just go?" Hermione asked. He hesitantly nodded at the young girl in his arms, motioning to the other with to grab her trunk and cat carrier.

"Hullo Hermione, I'm Tonks," said the pink haired witch flashing a small comforting smile.

Before she knew it, she was standing in 12 Grimmauld Place, being crushed by Molly Weasley as she tried her hardest to keep the tears away.

"It's good to see you dear!" said the Weasley matriarch, laying a loving hand on her cheek. "Ron and Ginny will be along next week, I'm afraid. When the wards were breached I flooed them to Muriel's. But Fred and George are here, I'm sure they'll keep you company."

"Granger!" called two perfectly synchronized voices. "We'll show you to your room."

She left silently, leaving the adults looking after her with concerned expressions.

"Come along Hermione, and mind the noise," said a twin, she looked up to see which one.

"Hello George," she said quietly, turning her head to greet his brother. "Hello Fred."

"Blimey Granger I'll never know how you can tell us apart," said Fred with a smile.

"Not even our own mother can," said George.

At the mention of their mother, her face fell. When they reached her room she claimed to be exhausted and quickly said goodnight before collapsing in bed, tears flowing freely. She cried in earnest now, mourning her relationship with her mother, mourning the end of her life as a muggle, she cried for Cedric and Harry, she cried in fear of what was to come, a war, worse than any other before.


End file.
